When people undertake to commit to lengthy flights to arrive at a far destination they're said to be suffering from jet lag, tired afterward, sometimes for days, particularly given the different time zones. We've flown on trips halfway around the world but never experienced that tired, disoriented feeling, settling right in with no 'time off' for resting. Perhaps too exhilarated by our arrivals at places hitherto unknown to us and exotic, at that. Of course, we were also much younger, back then.

 

   Sabbaday Falls, New Hampshire

So while we never really experienced jet lag, we're now experiencing something similar; 'mileage lag', having driven from Ontario to New Hampshire and back again, a week ago on fairly long drives. Our usual vigour is returning, we're not quite as tired feeling, but even then we undertook our usual activities, just at a bit of a slower pace. Now, almost a week after arriving back home, we're feeling fairly normal.

 

One of our day trips while staying at the Waterville Valley, fairly central to other places that we've restricted ourselves to visiting (since we're no longer able to climb steep mountain trails to reach their summits on the kind of physically exerting escapades that occupied us in years past), last week was to take the Kancamagus Highway to Sabbaday Falls, a favourite of ours for its spectacular views of a lovely mountain-landscape waterfall.

 

It was one of the hottest days we'd experienced there, hot and muggy. Yet at the Sabbaday the heat was far less draining, and a cooling breeze sifted through the forest trail as we approached the falls. It's a popular destination, we were by no means alone as we trudged uphill in the heat. While we were away and on these familiar old trails Jackie and Jillie remained leashed, unlike the freedom they enjoy trekking through our own forest at home. You never know what might happen and we dread the very thought of ever being separated from them.

 

Today, unlike yesterday when it was cold, overcast and rainy, we had full sun and warmer temperatures. So no need for raincoats, although even at 21C on the forest trails where the canopy shields from the sun, it felt a bit nippy. Actually, the atmosphere in the forest seems almost to be one of waiting ... the forest waiting for fall to march in. Even the squirrels are sensitive to that feeling, in their frantic rushes back and forth, gathering and caching overwintering foods.

 

Yesterday's dinner on a cold and too-early-dark evening was just perfect; a fish paella. It was hot and brimming with both nutritional elements and aromatic taste. We really enjoyed it. Our entire menu repertoire is undergoing a gradual change from the cooler, lighter fare we enjoyed in the summer, the more casual meals giving way to those requiring more thought and preparation.

 

 This morning, after breakfast, while Irving was busy doing the vacuuming, I baked a pecan pie. I did it a little differently, using butter and sour cream for the pie crust, for a change. I had pecans in the pantry and it occurred to us that a pie might be in order for something a little different from the fruit pies I'd been baking through the summer months.

 

We had actually meant to spend part of the day driving the Kankamangus Highway to Sabbaday Falls and then go on to Rocky Gorge, but we somehow got turned around and decided to leave our original destination for the following day. Instead, we drove to Franconia Notch, a much shorter drive, on a beautifully warm and sunny day with a good brisk breeze to keep mosquitoes at bay.

Jackie and Jillie have been there before. But it's been a three-year hiatus. The weather has been iffy enough in northern New Hampshire to dissuade quite a lot of people from venturing forth, but this day had nothing to apologize for. And there were far fewer people about than usual, a bonus for us. The temperature gradually rose to the mid-70s, just perfect for a climb.

When we arrived at the Basin, we took the short detour down to the Baby Flume. It's quite a sight, and one that most people seem to bypass. It does take some dexterous footwork to get there on a narrow, winding path that snakes its way through the forest. There are laceworks of roots and rocks to negotiate. The stream running off the mountain that has formed the Basin continues on, falling over flat, grey granite slopes and around boulders and the sound is a baritone musical.

A short hike brings the intrepid searcher to the Baby Flume, water cascading noisily and beyond picturesque on to the Pemigewasset River beyond. Jackie and Jillie are interested and make their way through little byway trails closer to the raging stream. They're on leash and cannot go further than we allow them to. They're not interested in going into the water where still pools defy the thrust of the boiling stream.

Back on the main trail we make our way to the Basin, and there's a handful of people assembled there on the right side of the protective wood rail, taking photographs of the raging waterfall. The Basin itself is just that; an upright carve-out of the grey granite into a wide oval, the work of thousands of years demonstrating the power of water.

From there we make our way toward the trail that will lead us to one ledge after another of wide grey stonework, smoothed by the fall of water tumbling down from the mountainsides. The trail has been worn deeply since we first climbed it with our children many decades ago. Constant foot traffic on this popular tourist site (though only a minuscule number of people who come to ogle the Basin move on to the mountain trail beyond it)has worn the trail quite bare. Tree roots that would otherwise be underground have been bared, forming a root-stairway interspersed with rocks as you make your way through the forest up the trail.

We pass one ledge after another, then finally take a brief side trail toward the ledge we feel we've climbed high enough to attain. Then we sit awhile on a raised semi-flat boulder, watch the water spuming downhill, look at the forest on either side, admire the puffy white clouds like sheep pasturing in a blue meadow, and relax. 

Jackie and Jillie are treated to cookies and water and they're content after sniffing about, to sit quietly with us, before we finally turn back and make our way down the trail, our little expedition for the day concluded.